Life Challenges

This blog is written in honor of the struggles we each face. For those with health issues, for those struggling to find work, for those who feel discouraged, for those grieving.

I will not deny the magnitude of those struggles. A lot of the time we keep putting one foot in front of the other, sometimes by choice, sometimes for lack of a better option. They test our strength, our faith, our endurance, and oh Lordy, our patience.

For every challenge I can find blessings within. But that does not mean there are not days where we falter and wonder if things will ever change. People bear incredible trials. There are situations beyond our comprehension. Yet, there are people who magnify all that is good in life. Not because their life has been a walk in the park. But, because, their have found the park in their life walk.

Therein lies the challenge.

500 Times

Hmmmm. 500 times I've sat down to share my thoughts with you. Amazing. 500 times and I'm still talking to myself, to you. Basically writing down what those voices in my head tell me too. Will they ever cease?? I hope not.

Let me clarify. I have written 500 blogs on this site. There were a whole bunch of them on another small site that are lost in space because I never printed them out. Shame on me. It isn't really that "sites" fault. It's mine for not printing them out and/or backing them up. All of this started because of some time on my hands, some stories about dogs, and experiences in life. I figure maybe my lessons would be helpful to others. Could be my education might help someone else. Hopefully, my life-capades make someone else smile a wee bit.

I do know how to laugh. Life is pretty funny. Ironic, painstakingly precise in providing moments humbling enough to crush you, but none-the-less worthy of laughter. Mostly because laughter is generally better than tears.

If there were an Academy Award for blogs I can picture myself on the stage accepting it. A bit wobbly on my heels, dressed to the nines in a svelte red gown with white pointer fur on it. Alright, in the interest of honesty, very wobbly on heels, lots of dog fur, and svelte?? Hahahhahaaaa.....

But the speech would be the same. I'd like to thank those who find some truth in my words, some laughter in my journey and some joy in dogs. Dog have brought out the best of me, define the best of me and have endured the best of me. Thanks be to Dogs. Thanks be to God. Thanks be to the people who read my blogs.

Talk Nice

Funny how slow we are to talk nice. It's so much easier to dish the dirt on someone. How many of us would love to have their spouse, boss, friend, brother, sister, neighbor say something nice to them? Some of us are lucky in that regard, just as some of us are starving for affirmation.

My challenge for you. Say something nice to someone. Better yet, let me know the response you got. I haven't mentioned lately - but I love comments on my blog. I can only hope you learn from, laugh, appreciate more, or love more deeply from something I have written.

If I make even a tiny difference it's a good thing. If you rethink how you feel about yourself, your attitude or your life I've done good. If you find a greater joy in your pets, all the better. If you are moved to adopt a rescue dog or foster then I'll do back flips. Well, not physically, because that would result in traction for my back.

If you can't adopt, or foster - many rescues have a "virtual foster" option. Say you have some expendable income (lucky you!) and want to help a foster home with medical, food, or just some fun toys for the pups. You can help in that way. Isn't that nice?

So, talk nice. In that way we both make a difference.

My Dog is Catholic

Several weeks ago I was asked, during a pet therapy visit, if Hank was Methodist. I said no, with complete certainty.

Today, I discovered that Mickey is Catholic. I should have seen this coming. Sometimes I am a slow learner. I've been alternating doing the visits between Hank and Mick. Mick is 8 now, I think he's slowing down some on his enthusiasm for the visits. Hank is younger, but with his health issues he may only be able to do this for a while. He is such a people pointer I wanted to give him a chance to shine, and people a chance to experience some Mr. Hanky love.

Trouble is Mick knows which day of the week is Tuesday. He knows what time the visit is. It was when I put the bandanna on Hank today that I realized Mickey was Catholic. Wham!!! It hit me. Bammm!!! Mick give me a look that sent me in a downward spiral of guilt. Only a Catholic dog could do this. What else could it be? I know this guilt, as I was raised Catholic. I still eat fish on Friday's during Lent, otherwise the guilt kills me.

I must surmise he is Catholic, or was raised Catholic, but since he's a rescue I may never know. Catholic nun's and Mothers everywhere would applaud the look he gave me today. It was a doozy. I apologized profusely then and when we returned. I'm not sure he bought it. Maybe I'll try three Our Father's and a couple Hail Mary's for good measure.

2 Moms - 21 Pups

Yes, you read that right. Pointer Rescue Organization took in two pregnant females who gave birth to 21 puppies. Holy buckets of puppies.

Yep, we knew they were pregnant when we accepted them into our program. Both the Moms are heart worm+ and one has double cherry eye. They had a lot going against them, but thankfully has PRO going for them.

This is proof the lines of rescue are not always clear cut. But the need is always obvious and decisive. The pup's are lab/pointer mixes. Wowser Bowser, that's a great mix of breeds!!

All told we can make a difference in the lives of 23 dogs, and the humans who adopt them. In the meantime, our greatest needs is assistance for their care. Food, supplies, a heap load of blessings on their current foster Mom, foster homes for the pups when they are old enough to wean, adoptive homes, did I mention donations for medical care for the Mom's of the pups??

Imagine 21 pups rolling in play, 21 pups whimpering, 21 pups huddled in sleepy piles, 21 piles of you know what. Imagine helping us help the pups. Imagine yourself going to our website: www.pointerrescue.org to help with these wonderful dogs.

It's a win-win situation and you can make a difference. Imagine 21 little balls of soft fur and all that sweet puppy breath. Ahhhh.....puppy breath.

Just Ahead of Us

I am blessed. The store I work in is not only family run, but also animal friendly. Well behaved dogs are always welcome to shop as long as they bring their owner with them.

In the back offices, one of the family dogs is often in residence. You might find him resting on a large dog bed in the office, or pushing the swinging doors open with his nose to head down to the framing department. While he was dieting, there were notes posted in the breakroom reminding us not to feed him extra goodies. That took such will power. He's been known to leave the building of his own accord, leaving us in a panic until he was located. When he wanted a walk, and saw an open door he went for it. His approach to life was walks first, business later.

This special team member has done more for store morale that he will ever know. At 14 yrs old, he greeted many, many employees and customers over the years. He met them with dignity, patience and a wag of his yellow lab tail.

This week he went on his last walk. The walk over the Rainbow Bridge. Our hearts grieve for his owners, and for Happer himself. But I know, as sure as he was loved, that he is not really gone. No, he is not gone, he is just ahead of us on the trail.

So if you should think you catch a glimpse of him ahead, in the field, trotting down the hallway, or out the door, take comfort. He resides with us still, and always will.

Questions, Questions and More Questions

I often get questions about my dogs while doing pet therapy visits. The most common are, of course, name, rank and serial number. Oh wait, name, age and breed. I have logged many visits with my pointers Kobe, Mick and now Hank. I'm used to the questions. Such as....is that a Dalmatian? No, not all spotted dogs are Dalmatians. Is that a Brittany? Springer? Lab? Great Dane? I had to laugh at that one. Great Dane - not hardly. Most assume they are German Shorthair Pointers. I say English Pointers with as much decorum as an Englishman could muster.

Many assume these are dogs looking for homes. May I just say over my dead body! Do they bite? Not bloody likely. Some people want to know if they do tricks. Besides shaking hands/paws, mine aren't exactly America's Got Talent material. One of the members in our group has a dog that rolls over, prays, sits pretty, shakes and speaks. My guys look cute and are well behaved. I tell them not to stress about the over achievers. They will still get the same number of treats at the end of the visit. I did have someone ask recently if Hank was Methodist. My reply was that he is non-denominational. Frankly, if all dogs go to heaven it doesn't matter what faith he is.

Many ask what skills are needed to be a therapy dog. How do I get them to be so quiet and well mannered. I always say they've had basic training, they have been screened for temperament, they have a reference from their vet, and finally, I wouldn't expect any less than that from them. So much has to do with a sound temperament, good socialization, and the expectation that they will behave. That is not to say they are perfect. They are not.

There are times they act like I speak Greek and they can't understand a word I'm saying. Luckily most of those times happen at home, particularly when we have company. Overall, I think they save all their good behavior up for that one hour a week we do our visit. I don't have a problem with that.

Truthfully, I love talking about my dogs, your dogs and dogs in general. I don't mind the questions, they go with the territory. Dogs visiting hospitals - yup, our kind of territory.

Discouraged

Have you ever had the wind taken out of your sails. Are you currently discouraged? Have you felt demoralized? Look at these words. Dis - couraged. I hate when someone dis's my courage. De- moralized. It sucks when my morale dis-appears. I depend on it to be my Energizer Bunny.

I rarely feel discouraged or demoralized in relation to the dogs. They get A+ in motivation. They get A+ in empathy and encouragement. Some days it makes you wish you could just hole up with the pups and forget about mankind. Ain't that the truth?

Wouldn't it be nice if our bosses, spouses, or relations were dogs? Unless, of course, they had the tendency to nip or growl. Hmmmm, maybe they do. But, heck, we could discipline them and retrain them. At the very least we could crate them.

It's hard when you lose your momentum to discouragement. It happens to all of u. It happens in friendships, in our faith life, with our boss, parents, kids...just about anybody. It happens.

I guess I/you/me/we have to decide. We have chose to move past the loss of courage, the decrease of morale. Perhaps we can do that by being more dog-like. For the most part they forget the dis-moments and embrace the bliss moments. So can we. We can regroup, rethink, recharge and renew. Dis-moments are pretty much hit and miss moments. Learn from them and let them go.

Thanks Mickey

On the days I get to sleep in Reno always closes the door to keep the dogs out of the bedroom. After he feeds them Mickey always barges in anyway. Either he has thumbs I am not aware of, or he just pushes until the door is forced open. Today was one of those days. I can't complain. He jumped up and snuggled in, we had a wonderful cuddle. Life is good with a dog curled up beside you.

All the pointers who have graced my life have Mickey to thank. He was my first, he is the one who opened the door. He is the one who brought that pointer passion into my life.

Without Mick, there would not have been Kobe, Jackson, Buddy, Bo, Pete, Sidney, Hank or Sophie in my life. Mick set the bar. Of course, the bar was sometimes ridiculously low, and other times incredibly high. It was a bar full of humor and patience. It was a bar that includes blankets with some holes chewed in them. And a nice wool blazer with holes in the pockets. He does have a thing for Kleenex left in pockets. I'd have to say that is Mick's one vice. I think we are all allowed to have at least once vice. Most of us have several.

Who would have thought a liver and white boy dumped by a farmer who couldn't find a home for him could bring such joy? I had no idea when I said yes to Mick, how much I was opening my heart too. But, I'm ever so grateful I did.

Company

Two out of three of our resident dogs must have been WalMart Greeters in another lifetime. Not your basic WalMart Greeter either. We're talking wiggle their butt off, do the happy dance, "look Mom we have company", boy howdy they are here to see me, ain't life grand greeters.

The third pup in residence is a remedial learner, but we love her anyway. It's not that she doesn't have good examples to follow. The fact that she resides under my desk or in her crate definitely factors in. If company does come when she's outside her mission is to break the sound barrier to get inside as quickly as possible.

Not all of us are extroverts. Some reserve judgement routinely. Some, like Mick and Hank never met anyone who wasn't a friend. They make friends before you even say hello. They anticipate the good and get it back in spades. Perhaps it's all in the company we keep. I love my little introvert and my social extroverts. I learn from both approaches to life.

I do draw the line at standing on the driveway and wagging my butt off when company comes. I'm no less excited than they are, but just not cute enough to pull that off. Their enthusiasm is contagious. Ya gotta love that.

It's all About Attitude

Sophie is on a different time table than Mick and Hank. By 8pm at night the boys are down for the count. About 9pm Sophie gets her second wind and is ready to roll.

Here is the visual. The boys sleeping on the sofa. One on each side like book ends. Sophie will come down and bark at Mick. Bark and bark and bark until he gets up and leaves the couch. Then it's on to Hank. Same treatment. Woof woof woof woof woof...until Hank too leaves his warm cozy place and she takes control of the sofa like a canine version of Queen of the Hill. I'm sure she busts out into song as soon as she takes possession singing, most aptly, "We Are the Champions"....by Queen.

Following the sofa ritual it's often time to wrestle with the Sooner throw rug. It has been wrestled into submission countless times. Or, with an available Croc or two if no one is looking. Other times she'll get the zoomies and run laps like there is no tomorrow.

My guess is Hank and Mick are saying "what? what?? what??? what got into that little bitch". Or, "Watch out crazy female coming through". "Move it, move it, move it....protect yourself, run for cover!" Or...."who said she gets the couch? We were here first!! Mom!!!! Make her stop!"

Hank and Mick may have been here first, but Sophie definitely owns the place. Ya gotta love seeing this little bit of Pointer stand up and take ownership.

Name Tags

All my dogs wear name tags. Which is funny, because my dogs can't read. Still it's good they have a tag that tells people who to call should they ever go AWOL.

The funny part is we recycle name tags. I figure what is most important is that my information is current, not so much that the dog name is current. So Hank wears Pete's name tag. And Pete's lucky collar. Sophie wears Abby's name tag. Mick luckily has his own tag. Should someone find them, and call them by those other names, I have no doubt my dogs will act like they've never heard that name before. I don't expect them too.

We all have tags we wear, and sometimes they don't reflect who we really are. Sometimes we understand our tags, sometimes we are clueless. If Sophie knew Abby, she'd be darned honored to wear her tag. If Hank knew Pete, he'd be busting his buttons with pride.

Bottom line the tags tie them to me. I hope and pray we never need those tags, but they are there just in case. The other tag my dogs wear says "I saved a human". Everyday they save me from taking life too seriously. They save me from boredom, from having vast amounts of expendable income, from being cold and/or lonely. They save me from ever sleeping in too, we need to have a talk about that.

They tag my heart with love, and I hope I tag them half as well. Their tag could just as easily say "I am well loved". Can we hope for anything more than that?

Bus Full O'Boston's

I/we have done a transport or two in our time. We've hauled Labs, Golden's, all American's, Setters, Pointers and then some. Most are memorable trips and the feeling of gratification is profound. Each transport is unique. Like the three-legged dog (who's name escapes me), or the trip with the 4 dogs that included one female in heat, one male aggressive dog and one female who didn't like human males. There was the time I broke the relay person's glasses during the hand off. Egads, I'm still sorry about that little incident.

This morning we hauled four Boston's to Lincoln, about an hour away from home. We figured it would be a piece of cake. We figured wrong. There were two six month old puppies, a senior girl who's tongue stuck out the whole time. We think she was giving the whole world raspberries. Plus another female named Angel. One must always wonder about dog's named Angel.

The hand off was interesting. Four drivers with dogs in tow. Each dog with a bag of vet records and kibble. Two crates, a box of something traveling with the dogs going on to Colorado. Extra leashes. We brought water and water bowl.

Crate use was optional. We hadn't even left the parking lot when one of the dogs horked down Reno's arm. You may have heard the swearing. First stop was to buy paper towels. Note to self, pack paper towels next transport. Cleaned up first mess and hit the interstate for the run down to Lincoln. Dogs all settled, three in a huddle. Fourth one settles on top of a crate. No doubt the best position to give other travelers raspberries from. Yes, I was worried a sudden stop would jettison her off the crate. No, we didn't try to remove her because crawling into the back and over the pile of dogs didn't seem viable.

Part way there one dog, or was it two? takes a crap in the back of my truck. This might be a good place to mention Reno's nose is a thousand times more sensitive than mine. The pack is milling around then, giving each a opportunity to walk through said piles. Yes, more cursing.

Then there is the city of Lincoln. We've been there several times. It's always hell. We found our drop off point, but the pick up team couldn't find us. Delay of transport, but an opportunity to clean up the crap. While waiting the horker walks up to the front seat, lets out one little cough and horks yet again, all over my purse. Any reports of a man spewing a barrage of profanity have not been exaggerated.

This transport of dogs sets new records for excitement! Ahhhh.....but the hand off is completed, safely, which always is a relief. Somewhere across the state of NE four little Boston's are hauling butt to their furever homes. Somewhere in NE a truck is having its upholstery cleaned. Somewhere new owners are anxiously waiting their next best friend. I'm happy to have helped make this possible. All things considered, it was worth it. Reno, however, may say otherwise.